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Post by Isengrim on Aug 23, 2015 18:27:50 GMT
Nine years. Nine long years.
Nine years since he had arrived in Etirath. Fifty years since he first left it behind. Fifty years since the way with Rudolve Sayre, the blood-borne king. Fifty Years since he last saw his queen.
Regret clutched at his heart, as it always did when he thought of his abandonment of the queen. Of his friend.
Isengrim sat in silence at the edge of his bed. The morning sun pouring a soft warm light through the window to his right. He was fully dressed. His walking stick lay flat across his lap. Beside him, on an open hankerchief, lay a ring. A single loop of unmarred silver, adorned with a round violet gem, which seemed to glow as it reflected the light that entered the room. The symbol of the Eldritch Knight was etched into the metal beneath the gem, giving the illusion that the symbol was somehow etched into the gem itself. A gift from the queen.
Fifty years since he last wore it.
Isengrim straightened, breaking the heavy silence with a deep breath, followed by a drawn out exhale. He reached over, and picked up the ring, carefully slipping it over his left ring finger. The cold metal seemed so alien, yet so familiar on his finger. The weight felt pleasant. It belonged.
It was time to go. He had spent nine years establishing himself in the kingdom, and he, Isengrim, had earned himself a place in the society just as much as any other citizen. There was no other reason to put it off.
He stood. His jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed. A feeling he had not felt in many years seemed to bubble up within him. The sensation he experienced before a difficult mission or a tough battle. But who was he fighting? Who was his enemy?
He made his way out the door as the answer weighed heavily in his mind: Himself.
He had walked these streets many times before, yet never have they felt so long as they did that day. The buildings seemed taller, the streets seemed emptier. His guilt, and his fear wracked his nerves as he thought of what he would say to her when they met. How would he explain his departure? How would he explain the fact that he, her most trusted friend, subject, and comrade, had succumbed to his own selfish emotions and abandoned her on what may have been one of her toughest moments? What excuse would he give her? What reasons could he offer in order to win her forgiveness?
As expected, no words came. He continued his long walk in silence, head down. As usual, no one approached him. He had somewhat earned a reputation as a possibly senile old man. Nobody noticed him and those that did would not bother to acknowledge him. It was as he wanted. He gazed up from the ground and saw as the palace grew larger with every step he took. His heart pounded against his chest, his footsteps seemed to rock his bones. He eventually had to use the walking stick, rather than carry it at his side, to support himself as he walked. It seemed like with every step he took he aged yet another month. He felt heavy and weak. As if with every step closer, the weight of time added itself to the weight of his abandonment. By the time he reached the entrance to the courtyard, he had to stop and rest. He stood, stone still, at the line between the palace courtyard and the rest of the kingdom. Once he stepped inside, he could not turn back.
Should he do it? He questioned himself. What benefit would this serve? Nobody knows he is alive. She likely thinks him dead as well. To suddenly appear with a meager apology, what good what it do? He would likely bring up old emotions which she had likely gotten past long ago. He lifted his hand. With the effects of his contract with Ruin, his aging had slowed considerably. Yet still, he had aged. Fifty years had taken it's toll on his body. His once smooth skin was now worn and rough. His once lustrous, youthful eyes had sunken somewhat. He was still healthy, and robust, but still. He had grown older. She likely would still look the same, being what she was, immortal. He clenched his fist as the difference between them sunk into his mind like a nail. She was immortal, he was a mortal. She was divine, he was a lowly human, and yet still, she had given him a friendship like no human had ever been able to offer. He threw it away. He drove his nails into the skin of his palm so hard blood filled the space under his nails. Yet the biting pain was nothing compared to what he felt he deserved.
He took a step forward. He didnt deserve the right to be a coward. He didnt deserve to run away and avoid what was to come. Whatever she felt, whatever she deemed appropriate for his betrayal. He would not try to escape.
He wove his way through the courtyard. He had come here many times before and did not bother to take in the scenery. He would waste no more time. In a matter of minutes, he found himself approaching the entrance to the palace, guarded by two men in full armor. Isengrim slowed his approach.
"Halt. State your business." Called the one on the left. A young green eyed man who appeared to be about the age Isengrim was when he left.
Isengrim turned to face him. "I wish to see the queen." He answered.
"What is your name and for what do you wish to see her?" Asked the guard.
"I come on personal matters. And my name is Ise-" He stopped. Looking the man in the eyes. "Tell her Greisimn Leonis is her to see her." He watched carefully for any signs of recognition in the man's face. But as expected there was nothing. The man simply turned and disappeared into the palace. Isengrim's shoulders sunk slightly. What if she had forgotten him? The idea had run across his mind many times, but it seemed to take place at the forefront now. Surely, she would not deny him passage, even if she didnt remember him, that was the person she was.... in fact, she was more likely to deny him passage if she did recognize the name.. Isengrim stood in silence, as the seconds passed by, then minutes. After about five minutes, the guard came back.
"Follow me." He said simply. Isengrim stiffened. The time had come. There was definitely now way to go back. This was happening. He took a heavy step forward, and followed the guard into the palace.
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Post by Lev on Aug 23, 2015 19:58:37 GMT
The green-eyed guard, named Ilward, closed the massive oak doors behind him as he entered the Throne Room. Two fellow guards delivered a quick salute to recognize his entry, and he returned it to them. After, he walked briskly down the stone pathway - the only pathway - to his queen. Armoured footfalls were silenced by the yellow cloth that carpeted his way, and even more by the constant babbling of water that filled the shallow ponds on either side.
"Lady Theolandra," he called on bended knee, helmet in hand to expose shaggy brown hair.
Lady Theolandra was not seated at the throne. She hardly ever was; instead, preferring the company of the light that filtered in behind it. Each glass frame let her see a new angle of her kingdom and the people that lived in it. They filled her with more power and comfort than a stationary seat ever could. Ilward's deep voice pulled her eyes away from the leftmost window, where an unpopular play was wrapping up at the Amphitheatre.
"Hello, Ikward. Have you heard about the new play? I think I'd like to see it."
"A man is outside, requesting your council," he continued without lifting his eyes. Always business. "His name is Greisimn Leonis. Shall I escort him in?"
Theolandra froze in place. Her slender hand clutched the thin fabric at her breast, catching her heart before it beat frantically out of her chest. What was the meaning of this? Feelings warred inside of her: anger, hope, surprise, elation. She was so nonplussed, she didn't know which to invest in.
"What did you say?" The question was sharp with vexation. Anger had won.
"Madam?"
"Repeat yourself, Ikward. Who requests my council?" Repeating herself didn't ebb the growing ire. What kind of malicious body would steal the identity of her lost friend? What monster would use his name to manipulate her?
"Greisimn Leonis requests your council, milady. Shall I.. let him in?"
"Yes," she answered in an uncharacteristically low voice.
_______________________
When the stranger entered, Theolandra's back was turned to the room for fear of unjustly judging the man before hearing his words. One arm lay at her side and the other rested on the back of the stone throne. The guards were asked to leave the room. Minutes of silence passed until she spoke again.
"Tell me your name," she demanded. "Tell me your name and why you are here." The words cut through the air like arrows.
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Post by Isengrim on Aug 23, 2015 21:43:38 GMT
Isengrim followed in silence as the guard escorted him through the halls of the palace. Despite how much the rest of the kingdom had changed, the palace had very much remained the same. He could recall walking down these very halls so long ago. Not under the watchful eye of critical guards, but at the side of Theolandra himself. When he would often offer her a brief respite from her duties as queen to simply talk and wander. He found she often had many insightful things to say, and while as a queen she was excellent, as a person she was even more so. Despite being of divine nature, she seemed to feel and understand everything just as well as any mortal, better, even. It was one of the reason he took to her so well.
The corners of his mouth seemed to tug upwards, but then the pleasant memories seemed to crumble to dust as reality reared its ugly head. That was in the past. Now, who knows what their relationship would be like?
The guard led him to a massive set of doors. He turned to face Isengrim, and then reached back and pushed on the door. It looked too large to be pushed by one hand, but it easily opened at the touch of the guard, the space beg enough for Isengrim to enter through, but not large enough to see much inside.
"Lady Theolandra awaits you inside." The guard said plainly. Isengrim nodded and slowly walked into the throne room.
Again, all was as he remembered it. His first step was softened by a regal yellow carpet sitting atop white stone floors. He was welcomed by six hard-eyed guards in full dress armor, spears at their sides pointing skyward. Behind them, the water seemed to flow so slowly it appeared to be unmoving, lily pads danced across the surface, and many colorful fish flitted about below The walls on the sides were lined with enormous stone pillars, between them, platforms reserved for beautiful blue ivy added color and life to the room. At the back, daylight poured into the room through enormous windows, casting long shadows, and at the center, between two flawlessly carved foutains, was the throne of Lady Theolandra, Divine Queen of Etirath.
The queen herself was not on the throne. Instead, she stood beside it, facing the windows. Upon seeing her, Isengrim's gaze dropped. He did not stop however, instead making his way to the center of the room, where a lone guard stood between him and the queen. The guard announced his arrival. But the queen did not turn. Instead, she asked the guards to leave.
Isengrim's blood ran cold. Even at this distance, he could feel something coming from her. A seething ire. Rage. She kept herself composed. But that didn't lesson the vibes that bombarded him. The door closed behind them after the last guard wordlessly left the throne room. He didn't dare lift his gaze. Instead, staring silently at the floor where the guard once stood. For what seemed like hours, the only sound in the throne room was the sound of water pouring, and the occasional splash of fish batting at the surface. He did not speak, he would not speak until spoken to. He had nothing to say.
That was when she broke the silence. "Tell me your name." She ordered. He flinched at the frigidity in her voice. He was confused. Had the guard not told her his name? "Tell me your name and why you are here." The emotion in her voice told the tale. There was no kindness. Here words did not gently caress his listening ears. They snapped. They were laced with ice and cut through him. She was angry... He knew she would be. He had prepared for this. Yet it did not take from the difficulty as the words struggled to climb out of his throat. He stood in silence as he gathered the strength to speak and the words to say.
"My name-" He started. His voice meek and humble. As if it were by mercy he was even being allowed to exist. "My name is Isengrim. It is the name I have taken upon returning to your lands, Milady. But you know me by another name... The name I once answered to... Greisimn Leonis." He said, saying the name for the second time today. For the second time since he cast it aside so many years ago. His gaze remained on that one spot on the floor. His thumb ran across the inside of the ring, the light reflecting off the violet gemstone. "Why have I come? I cannot even answer that to myself, milady... I have been asking myself for nine years what I would do on the day I stood on this very spot. Beg for forgiveness I do not deserve? Weep? Curl up and die? I do not know. All I know is that I must apologize, Lady Th-" He stopped. Did he even deserve the comfort of uttering her name? No, no he did not. "I must apologize, Your Majesty... I have failed you. As your loyal subject, and as your friend. There is no excuse for my failure. I left when you needed me most, without a word, I allowed myself to be carried by grief and pain and selfishness. And now, I cannot go back and change that. Why have I come? I suppose to right the wrong or accept my punishment. I place myself at your mercy." He said, closing his eyes. His jaw clenched as he waited her judgement. He ire. He would stay there and even if she were to draw a sword and drag across his throat he would accept it without a word.
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Post by Lev on Aug 24, 2015 2:13:56 GMT
Theolandra wanted to weep as soon as she heard his voice. It took every ounce of restraint to keep her shoulders from quivering, revealing the struggle to choke down her elated sobs. Voice alone wasn't enough to convince her that Greisimn had returned, that he still lived, but the energy he brought in was unmistakable. Hours and days were spent side by side with that same force. His presence was like a fingerprint on her heart..
"I place myself at your mercy," he said. What strange words to elicit a smile. A fly on the wall might think her crazy or sadistic, but it was exactly what her friend would say - even after all of these years he didn't seem to change. A ragged chuckle escaped her lips, and she wiped a stray tear from her eye. Suddenly she regretted the anger she'd presented to him just moments ago, thinking he was an imposter.
Turning to face him couldn't wait any longer. It would have to happen eventually; and she'd have to witness the change of fifty years.. What would he look like? Would he still be the young man she held in memory? No. He was older now. That she could tell as soon as she turned around. The closer she got to him the more she could she the weathered skin, and strands of grey that feathered through his dark hair. After all that time and turmoil had done to him he was still handsome, especially in the eyes - even if they were buried under that furrowed brow. Before realizing it she'd ended up in front of him, locking eyes in silence.
One thing. One last thing. Would she find it where she looked? On his hand.. Her blue eyes searched for the violet stone, almost frantically. She gripped his right hand, flipped it over, then grabbed his left. There it was.. glittering in the light, like the tears that started to spill from her eyes once more.
"It's you.. Gods help me if this is some sort of trick," Theolandra whimpered, covering her mouth with her free hand. Without pause she seized Greisimn, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. "It is you.."
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Post by Isengrim on Aug 24, 2015 2:54:59 GMT
Soft foot steps approached him as he waited, quickening ever so slightly as they drew nearer. Then stopped. He could feel her, standing there, in front of him, yet did not open his eyes. She lifted his right hand, and by reflex he almost drew it away, but managed to control the impulse. Then she released it and quickly lifted his left. Separating each of his fingers until she finally settled on his fourth finger- his ring finger. He hands began to tremble. A droplet of water, a tear, fell upon the back of his hand. He opened his eyes but did not life his gaze.
"It's you..." She murmured, an almost inaudible whimper. "Gods help me if this is some sort of trick."
"Milad-UF" His words were cut off as he was brusquely seized by his doublet and pulled into a tight hug. His eyes widened in shock and his walking stick clattered to the floor. He stood there, arms at his side, as the queen, his friend, welcomed him back with a warm embrace. He stared at the floor behind her. Shock completely wiped his mind. Why? After all these years. After suddenly turning his back of years of utmost trust and friendship. Why would she welcome him in such a manner.
His mind flashed with scenes of his days with her before the war. Despite any and all events that befell the kingdom, she never ceased to speak with kindness. With love. Even towards Rudolv Sayre, a man who had committed many vile atrocities towards her, her people, and humanity as a whole, she offered mercy and compassion. It's who she was. This was Queen Theolandra. Tears welled in his eyes, his throat formed a lump, and he slowly raised his arms to return the embrace.
"How I've missed you, milady. How I regret every second I have spent away from you." His voice shook as he finally voiced the truth. He had missed her. He feared her wrath, he feared her judgement. But more than anything, he missed her.
He waited until she ended the embrace, and held her by her forearms, for the first time looking her in the eye. His mouth curved into a warm smile, something he had not done in a long time. She had not changed. Everything about her, from her deep blue eyes, her flawless porcelain skin, to her long flowing nearly white hair, remained untouched by time.
Slowly, he released her, letting his hands drop to his sides. He opened his right hand and the walking stick floated back up into his grip. He inhaled for what seemed like the first time since that morning, and smiled. He was at a loss for words again, but this time, it was not fear that caused it. It was relief. It was joy.
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Post by Lev on Aug 24, 2015 20:04:58 GMT
"I've missed you, Greisimn. I felt I'd expire without ever knowing your company again."
His smell was different. She couldn't place the exact scent while her cheek was against his chest, but she could tell that it was new. Countless things had to be different, and she wanted to learn them all. He'd been gone for so long. What's more, he missed her, too. What now? Where did they go from here? She blinked away her waterlogged eyes, and wiped the salty streaks from her red cheeks. The toothy smile remained - temporarily.
"Where have you been? I thought you were dead after-" she caught herself.
It'd been five decades since that terrible time in Etirath's history. He, everyone, suffered greatly.. and it didn't end when the enemy was defeated. Suddenly, she remembered everything that her friend had. She recalled everything he dreamed about having, and how it had been snatched from him. Elisanna was undoubtedly one of his hardest losses. As a friend, did she avenge his lover? Did she punish Sayre for his crimes against families everywhere? No. She forgave the bastard.. She practically took his side, in the eyes of humanity.
"Greisimn.. I'm sorry. I'm so..so-" her brow creased, contorting into an expression of shame and sadness. "I wanted to punish him. I wanted to feed him to my demons, to the power of those who suffered under his hand, but I- I-" she covered her mouth, forcing herself into silence. Years of practice couldn't have executed a proper apology. The hiccuping snivels didn't help her case.
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Post by Isengrim on Aug 24, 2015 20:57:34 GMT
"I thought you were dead after-" Isengrim's smile dropped, his eyes lowering back to the ground. So she did worry... his chest tightened at the thought of the added stress of his disappearance. It seemed all may be well, but it did not take from the pain that had already been felt. Pain he had inadvertedly caused. He opened his mouth to explain, but she continued, her voice breaking. "Greisimn.. I'm sorry. I'm so.. so-" Isengrim's fist tightened as her face illustrated her shame... her guilt. He wanted to stop her, but she continued "I wanted to punish him. I wanted to feed him to my demons, to the power of those who suffered under his hand, but I- I-"
"Mila- L-Lady Theolandra... please stop..." He said. He hadn't noticed it until just then, but he was shaking. His eyes threatened to burst forth with tears. He reached out, taking her by the chin and lifting her head so her eyes met his, then, with a voice as calm and steady as he could muster, he continued. "I do not blame you. We all lost things- people, in the war. I was selfish. But you must not blame yourself-" He hand began to shake again. "Please do not blame yourself for my actions, milady. Under no circumstances must you place yourself at fault..." He drew back his hand and stepped back. "Your duty is to humanity. Sayre, as corrupt as he was, was still human. You succeeded in what no one else could have done. You calmed the beast, and in doing so, restored the world and saved humanity." His head dropped as he thought about what would have happened.
"Imagine if you had not taken mercy on him? How many more would have died? The world itself was tainted. His followers pillaged and murdered, his demons walked the earth freely. It was through your actions that we were able to end it all as we did... I was selfish. I only saw my loss. I blinded myself to that which was around me. I acted as though I was the only one who had lost someone. It was under this selfish delusion that I needed someone to blame. I tried to blame Sayre, but to do so was to betray you. I could not do it. I could not betray you, and I knew that this taint which had afflicted my heart would torment me forever. I knew not what to do. So I left. I spared no second thought. I simply turned my back to you, my queen, and more so, to you, my dearest friend."
He turned to walk towards the edge of the stone platform that bisected the large pond. "I travelled. I had no destination. I had no goal. I simply walked to wherever my feet would take me..." His walking stick began to glow slightly. Soft violet tendrils of light reached down from his hand toward the bottom of the stick. He lifted it off the floor and tapped the water below. A rippled carried out from where his stick had touched the water, the water taking on a violet glow as well. It was as if he had casted a giant scrying spell, but rather than viewing someone else, the water displayed a much younger Isengrim in his travels. "As I travelled, I witnessed and experienced many things. Loss. Hardship. Despair. Sayre, although no longer a threat, had left a deep scar on the world. While nature was, for the most part, cleansed, humanity was a much more difficult affair."
The scene in the water shifted through scenes of starving children in ruined villages. Bandits who took advantage of the poor like wolves on livestock. Farmers whose life's work was laid to waste, once fertile soil now tainted and charred. "Yet even among that, I was able to find people who were able to smile. Who were able too look past their pain, and their suffering." The water displayed children, bandaged and bedded, laughing while an scrawny older boy danced and sang. There were no adults in the image aside from Isengrim, who's once stoic face now bore a wide smile. It turned to an entire village that helped to prepare a new farm to replace the one the had lost, digging out scoops of dirt with they could find to irrigate the land and draw in water from a nearby river. And finally, a young man, who dropped to one knee, holding flowers for a teary-eyed girl who was missing a leg. "Everyone lost something. Yet everyone found reason to live. Why did I decide to let my loss, and my suffering, dictate my life and my choices?"
He turned away from the pool of water, and the scene disappeared, the water returning to it's crystal clarity.
"I realized I had made a mistake. And knew that I had to return to rectify it... but when I returned, I saw how the kingdom had rebuilt itself. I was then that it dawned on me exactly how much time had passed. A new generation walked the streets of my home. I was a ghost. A relic. Barely a memory. Etirath had he birthed itself, and I was not a part of it. I had no right, after turning my back on it so long ago, to come back and simply reclaim my place..."
He held the ring on his hand. It almost felt like he was playing a part in an act, after not wearing it for so long. After throwing away the name which came with the ring. "I discarded my name. I claimed a new one, a name with no fame. With no property. With nothing. I was no longer Greisimn Leonis. I was Isengrim. If I wanted to talk to you as my queen, I needed to earn my place in your kingdom. So I worked. I worked for nine hard years. I earned my keep, my home, my farm, my name."
He paused. Taking a breath. He had not expected to speak so much, but the words just kept flowing out. "I decided that it was time to stop putting off the true reason for my return. I could not continue allow shame, guilt, and grief to bar me from righting my wrongs. I came to right my wrongs..."
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Post by Lev on Aug 26, 2015 20:12:05 GMT
She inhaled deeply, ragged and weak, letting her chin rest within the gentle grip of his calloused fingers. The gesture touched her heart, and his words resonated with thought that had lived long before their fated meeting that day. The queen nodded into his hand, diffidently accepting his reasoning but looking down and away all the same. The two could have apologized for days, and in their hearts they probably would, but Theolandra was glad when Greisimn started to tell her about his journeys outside of Etirath. The light he painted her in was not fitting, and she didn't want to listen to any more praise.
Blue eyes watched in awe as violet ribbons of magic weaved around the walking stick to manipulate it with ease. She followed his steps to the shallow pool and witnessed the water's clear face transform into colorful images of moving life.
Skills commonly displayed in the College of Magical Arts, or on the battlefield - Greisimn's magic - fascinated the divine incarnation. A majority of Etirath believed that Theolandra could perform the same feats as any other mage, or wizard. They, although never having seen the woman accomplish any such task, believed that her powers dwarfed those of any mortal. It wasn't so. Only a few men and women were still alive after the fifty years since Theolandra's battle with Rudolv Sayre. Those few could confirm that her powers hardly resembled those of magic user's today, but they were disregarded as senile or self-glorifying veterans. In Etirath's time of peace Theolandra had no reason to exert power of any kind, to any end. So it remained a mystery. Greisimn had seen it, though...
Recounting his travels shed light on the dark spots of Theolandra's mind. The blank spaces between past and present were suddenly overflowing with images more satisfying than what her imagination had conjured. The children made her giggle, and the smile on Greisimn's young face relieved her. Men and women worked together to rebuild their settlements, laughing and jokes in the midst of the destruction around them. Young love blossoming against the odds in darker times, like lilies in a storm. The similarity of their individual pasts surprised her, but the knowledge that her closest friend had been so close for nine years was more baffling.
"When you left.. the kingdom almost fell apart. Fear divided the people, but the promise of a brighter future united them. We built a better home than they had before," she told him, hoping that he didn't mind an abridged version of her own history. "We had our own setbacks. A dragon attacked when we thought the worst was over. Hellfire took everything we'd worked for, and our mages-" The queen stopped short. It dawned on her that the fear of Greisimn's end by Winged-Death was just confirmed untrue. The happy fact was bittersweet, and she couldn't help feeling a little disgraceful about her relief. "We lost more mages than I care to remember. Their sacrifice only made killing the dragon easier.. When it was destroyed the people had an easier time trusting me, but not all."
Finally looking away from the shallow pond, she turned back to her friend with a thin smile.
"Through it all we've arrived at a time of peace," she continued, sounding more like the title she had earned from the people. "And it looks like you have righted more wrongs than you think. The past is behind us, and we are blessed with a future to look forward to. Now, we can move forward together."
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Post by Isengrim on Aug 27, 2015 0:59:50 GMT
Isengrim listened intently as she told her side of the last fifty years. He cringed when she mentioned the dragon attack. He had not been there to help. His hand tightened around the walking stick, which glowed slightly as his anger at his self escaped through his magic. But he wasn't allowed to wallow on the revelation of what his absence had caused him to miss. The queen, her tone not much more positive, more regal, and more hopeful, turned his attention away from the past, placing focus on the future.
He bowed, bending at the waist. "Thank you, Lady Theolandra. I too look forward to what the future may hold." He said, straightening. He stood in silence for a few moments. His eyes wandering around the room. "Hmm. So... what now?" He asked, his lips curving into a sheepish smile and a short hearty laugh escaping him. He felt good. He felt... giddy. He hadnt expected this to go the way it had. But he was glad, so very glad, that he had reconnected with his old friend. Now that he thought about it, even if fifty years may have passed, he should never have let his fear paint her to appear as some unforgiving, rancorous tyrant in his mind. He was glad the ordeal was over but now realized that he had, uncharacteristically, not planned this far ahead. Normally he was twelve steps ahead of what was happening but with this specific task, he had not thought of what might happen had the queen welcomed him back with open arms. His manners told him he should go. The issue was settled, he could go home. But, he honestly did not want to leave just yet. They could spend hours going in detail of the fifty years that had passed. She could tell him of the rebuilding process, he could tell her of his travels across the world. But he left the decision entirely up to her. Time spent with her, to him, was time well spent.
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Post by Lev on Aug 27, 2015 23:35:07 GMT
"Greisimn, please.. You still bow after all this time?"Her youthful eyes rolled in a sportive way, followed by a chuckle under her breath. Still feeling playful, the queen raised her brow and perched her chin on her knuckles. "Or must I call you Insengrim now? I think I favor your given name."
In truth, a large part of Theolandra wanted to continue on as they had in the past. But everything since their partnership fifty years ago had changed. The halls were different, the people were of a new generation, and the kingdom as a whole was thriving in a new time. With a deep refreshing sigh, the Lady looked around the pondesque room, asking herself the same question Greisimn had. What do we do now? The sun was descending in the West, drawing Theolandra's eyes to the brightly lit windows behind her throne. An entertaining idea popped into her mind, and a mischevious smile followed.
"Well, whoever you are," she said, turning to face Greisimn again. "Let's do something fun."
[End. Carry over to Arista's Aria]
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